


Distraction Tactics

by dont_fold_the_pages



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), New Element 6
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, M/M, this was meant to be silly but it ended up kinda cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_fold_the_pages/pseuds/dont_fold_the_pages
Summary: Davis the Pigeon wants to be released from his cage, but Tiffany is afraid that Steve might try and eat him, so Richael takes Steve on a fake date to get him away from camp. The date doesn't go quite as planned, however...
Relationships: Steve the Goblin/Sir Richael Javis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Distraction Tactics

It was an odd day. The air was warm, but it didn't carry the same humidity of a usual summer's day. And it was quiet, something that Sir Richael Javis hadn't had a lot of since he started this quest. He took a moment, just to breathe, taking in the only peace he’d had in a while. 

This peace was soon interrupted, as he felt a tug on his trouser leg, and a shrill voice piped, “Up, up!” Richael looked down, and Steve’s round yellow eyes looked back at him. In his thrill of finally getting peace and quiet, he had forgotten the reason why he had actually left the camp.

*****

Davis the pigeon had become extremely agitated as of late, pecking and scratching at Tiffany’s hands whenever she tried to feed him. “Maybe he just wants to stretch his wings,” Richael had suggested when she brought up the subject with him. “You should let him out of his cage for a while.”

“Are you crazy?” Tiffany replied, blocking Richael’s path to Davis. “If we let him out, Steve will eat him!”

“We don’t know that-”

Tiffany folded her arms, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes we do. Or at least, I do. You may want to see the good in everyone, but I don’t. If Steve got his hands on Davis, he would eat him, and you know it.”

After a moment of consideration, Richael sighed. “You’re right.” Noticing Tiffany’s smug expression, he continued, “But I’m right as well. You really need to let Davis out for a while.”

“Well, if you have an idea of how we can do that without him dying, I would love to hear it.”

Richael racked his brain for inspiration. Perhaps they could build a Steve-proof enclosure for Davis to fly around in? Or maybe they could find someone to cast some kind of enchantment on Davis to make him immortal? Or they could tie Steve to a tree?

“What if I took Steve on a date?”

Tiffany looked at Richael with wide eyes. “What?”

“Well, he clearly wants to go on a date with me. I mean, who doesn’t?” Richael flipped a strand of hair behind his ear, whilst Tiffany rolled her eyes. “And it would create the perfect opportunity for you to let Davis out without the risk of him getting eaten!”

Richael could see Tiffany rolling the idea around in her head. “Alright,” she finally agreed, holding out a hand for him to shake. “It’s a deal.”

“Great!” Richael grinned. Tiffany raised an eyebrow at his excitement. He cleared his throat and continued, in a lower, more serious tone of voice, “I mean, yes. That sounds like a very good plan. I shall get Steve now.”

“Mm-hmm.” Tiffany’s lips pressed tightly together, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Are you sure it’s Steve who wants to go on a date with you, and not the other way around?”

Richael’s cheeks flushed pink. “Quite sure, Lady Tifany!” he called as he dashed out of the tent, and away from any further questions. He had been sure, but as soon as he put the idea out into the world, his certainty began to slip away.

*****

"UP!" Steve screeched, bringing Richael back to the present.

Richael knelt to the ground, which was not an easy feat in his full suit of armour. "A please wouldn't go amiss every now and again."

"Well, if you stopped reminiscing about the past and listened to me then maybe I would be more polite!" Steve replied as he scrambled onto Richael's back and perched on his shoulders. "To the tavern!" he yelled, digging his heels into his ribs as if spurring on a horse.

Fortunately for Richael's sides, the tavern was only a short trek away, but despite the mild pain he was in, he took his time ambling down the dirt path. Though he'd often mutter a complaint whenever Steve asked to be carried, he always secretly hoped that he would. His arms across his shoulders made him feel almost like he was getting a hug. He liked that a lot.

They heard the tavern before they saw it. Accordion music drifted through the trees, an upbeat melody punctuated by the clapping of patrons. Amongst this tune, there was a low buzz of conversation, but the only words Richael could make out were slurred insults yelled by drunkards. 

A few steps later, and the tavern began to peek through the branches. It looked more like a cottage than a tavern, with a thatched roof and stone walls, but the smell could not be mistaken for anything else. The stench of alcohol was so strong that it was as if Richael had already drank a tankard of mead.

“This place is the best,” Richael said to Steve as they drew closer. “I used to come here all the time before I started this quest.”

Steve chirped excitedly. “The perfect place for our very first date!” 

Richael’s heart beat double time at that. He took a deep breath to try and settle it, but if anything, it just made it beat faster.  _ This was all your idea, Richael,  _ he thought.  _ It’s not a real date, it’s not a real date, it’s not a real date. _

_ But it could be. _

“I’m sure you will find everyone here to be excellent company.” He spoke fast, trying to cover the wavering in his voice. 

Steve slid off Richael’s shoulders as they approached the door, instead choosing to walk behind him so that they would both be able to get through the door without having to duck. Richael pushed the door open, its creaking hinges providing a fanfare for their entrance. 

Richael hadn’t realised how dark it was getting outside until he saw how much brighter it was inside the tavern. A candle burned on each table, as well as along the walls and on the bar. At least sixty people were squeezed into the small building, many of them brushing shoulders with each other just to fit in a booth.

Almost instinctively, Richael grabbed Steve’s hand to stop him getting lost in the crowd. Together, they moved towards the bar at the back of the tavern, where the bartender polished glasses with a cloth and a scowl. 

“Good evening, Gerald,” Richael said, sitting on a barstool in front of him. “Two pints of ale, please!”

“Two?” Gerald’s face relaxed a little upon seeing the return of Richael, one of his most regular customers. “You must be thirsty!”

“Oh, they’re not both for me,” he replied. He lifted Steve onto the stool, so that his head was just visible above the bar. “This is Steve.”

Gerald’s expression became sour - even more sour than it had been when they came in. “Oi,” he growled, and pointed to a sign nailed on the wall above the bar.

_ No goblins! _

Richael looked around at the other patrons, all of whom were now staring at them. One particular customer caught his eye. “What about him?” he asked, pointing at him. “He is clearly a goblin.”

“Nah, John’s just an ugly bastard,” the bartender leered, smirking at the sick glee he got from taunting Steve. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry about it.” He turned his attention back to the pair, who still sat uncomfortably in front of him. “Now,” he said, his lips curled into a snarl. “Get out of my tavern.”

Richael sighed, and slid off the stool. “Come on, Steve,” he muttered, walking towards the door. He had almost reached it before he realised that he wasn’t being followed. “Steve?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed into yellow slits. He stood up on his stool so that his face was at the same level as Gerald’s. “This. Was. Supposed. To. Be. My. DATE NIGHT!” he screeched, and pulled a dagger out of his pocket. Before Richael could stop him, he plunged it through the bartender’s throat. He dropped to the ground immediately. Dead.

“Oops.”

The other customers were still looking at them, but now, rather than amusement, some looked on in fear, and others with anger. People began to clear out of the tavern, at least half of the patrons all dashing for the door. 

“He just killed that guy!”

“How dare he!”

“Yeah, I wanted a refill!”

Everyone yelled in agreement, and began to rise from their seats. Richael noticed the glinting of silver at their sides. “Steve, get close to me,” he said, as the angry customers surrounded them. 

They stood there for a while. It seemed nobody wanted to strike first. Richael’s nerves settled slightly.  _ If nobody wants to fight, then maybe we can leave without violence. _

“Why are we just standing here? LET’S FIGHT!” Steve lunged towards the nearest person, and sliced across his kneecap. 

“Steve, no!” Richael shouted, but too late. He was immediately set upon by two customers, each holding knives. He drew his sword, and easily cut through them both with a single swing. 

“Richael!” Steve’s voice chirped from somewhere in the crowd, but he couldn’t tell where. He moved in the general direction of the sound, clearing a path by chopping through patrons with his sword as a farmer cuts through wheat with a scythe. In the chaos, many of them had turned on each other, even giving their own friends and family injuries in the confusion. 

Eventually, he saw Steve, crouched in a corner with a man at least three times his height looming over him. Quietly, he drove his sword through the back of the attacker, which went limp immediately. Richael held out his hand for Steve, who took it and hauled himself up.

By this point, there were only three assailants left standing, the others all having been taken out by either Steve or Richael, or each other. Richael ran towards the one furthest away, holding his sword like a bat and swinging it across the man’s front. Blood poured out, gushing onto the floor, followed by the lifeless body that it came from. Gazing over at Steve, he saw that he had also easily dealt with one of the other men, who’s bottom half had been cleanly severed from the top. 

The third man looked at Steve and Richael, and their sharp weapons, and looked down at the butter knife he had in his own hand. After a short period of deliberation, he dropped the knife on the ground and held his hands up, as he edged backwards out of the door. 

Richael sheathed his sword, wiping his bloody hands on his already bloody tunic. “Well, that was not how I expected the evening to go.”

“Me neither,” Steve said, licking blood off his fingertips. “But on the plus side, we get free drinks!”

“I really hope you mean the alcohol,” Richael muttered, looking at the puddles of blood on the floor. He walked behind the bar and began pouring himself and Steve a glass of red wine each. Searching in the cupboards underneath the bar, he found a small cloth bag of dried fruit. Placing them in front of him, he called, “Grub’s up!”

Steve, with a great deal of effort, hauled himself up onto the stool, sitting on his knees so that he could reach above the bar. In a single swig, he downed the entire glass of wine, and seemingly before even getting a chance to breathe, he shoved a whole handful of dried fruit in his mouth. 

They ate and drank quietly, until the food and drink was gone, which didn’t take very long with Steve’s monstrous appetite. 

“Richael?” Steve asked, moving from the stool to instead kneel on the top of the bar.

“Yes?”

Without warning, Steve placed his palms softly on Richael’s cheeks, and pulled his face closer. He planted a light kiss on his lips, before pulling away and looking at Richael sheepishly, waiting for his reaction.

It was just a soft peck, but Richael wanted more. He tasted of cranberries and red wine, and a little bit of blood, but he didn’t care, because he finally realised that yes, he had wanted this all along, he just hadn’t seen it within himself. He kissed him again, this time for longer, and more confidently, as they seemed to melt together. 

When they pulled apart, they sat silently for a moment, before finally Richael spoke. “We should probably be getting back, Tiffany and Adonis will be wondering where we’ve got to.”

Steve nodded, and together, hand in hand, they walked out of the tavern into the night.

The sun was rising by the time they arrived back at camp. Steve scarpered off to his own bed, trying to catch any rest he could before they had to move again. Richael was planning on sleeping too, but he was stopped by Tiffany before he could. She looked at the blood on his tunic suspiciously. “I’m guessing that the evening didn’t go as planned.”

Richael shook his head. “No,” he said with a grin. “Not how I planned at all.”


End file.
